Imperfect Person Perfectly
by Transgenic-girl
Summary: Tin Man mini series, from the perspective of...Wyatt Freakin' Cain. There's more he says with every movement than he could say with a speech full of words.
1. Where Are They?

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

He paused after walking past her. The words he'd just spoken echoing in his own mind,

_"Since that was a sapling."_

Years had passed while he'd been imprisoned within that tin suit. Endless days of watching the looped images of Longcoats beating him senseless while his family watched in helpless horror, struck whenever they turned away or called out. Endless nights of imagining what his son would have looked like had he lived, for Zero had surely killed both his wife and son not long after Cain had passed out from the pain. Grief being his constant companion, but not a lone traveler. Guilt and shame at having brought such pain down onto his family for having resisted Azkedelia's reign.

Pride and thirst for revenge kept him sane however. Despite what had happened, he could not regret having fought for the Queen's cause. The Crown Princess had been destructive and callous of her people and their pain. He'd have rather gone down fighting as he had than have submitted, or worse yet, joined the Sorceress in leveling the O.Z.

His savior from the tin suit he'd spent countless long years in had been surprising. A thin young woman, swinging a pathetic stick at the images of the Longcoats, foolishly rushing in to try to save complete strangers.

And the images finally stopped, flickering out of existence. The startled look on her face revealed the simple truth that she hadn't known it had been all an illusion, but had truly believed she'd been about to attack several armed, sadistic men. With a stick.

She'd looked around confused, finally catching sight of his prison and wandered over with a new curious expression on her heart-shaped face. An expression that quickly turned to determination with a tinge of horror when she'd knocked upon the metal casing he had supposed long ago would be his eventual tomb and he'd knocked back.

And she let him out, setting him free.

What was there to say after she'd done so much for him in just a few short minutes? How could he encompass how all he felt over her simple kind-hearted actions into a few short words? He shifted his shoulders while he thought, for once grateful of the suit's magic that held him in a kind of stasis all those years, no muscle degradation or aging meant that he was perfectly fit to carry out his plan unhindered. With a slight shake of his head he focused once more on how to best capture his thoughts into clumsy speech.

"_Much obliged for the help."_

He grimaced slightly as he heard the words, knowing they fell far short of what could have, should have been said. But, damn it, no one ever accused him of beinf an eloquent or verbose speaker.

So he kept walking away.


	2. Believe Me Heart's Got Nothing To Do

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

He'd tried to leave her behind, he really had. A naïve and innocent girl had no place in his plans for revenge. He couldn't watch her faith in the goodness of people fail, not because she saw what he planned to do to Zero. Her light glowed invitingly, the innocence calling to his own darkly tinged soul like a moth to a flame. He refused to be the one who destroyed that in her.

He called her a kid, hoping against hope that she would get offended and leave him to his vengeance. It was no business of his getting involved in her life in anyway. He insulted her, speaking about how she would cut and run at the first sign of danger. The lie fell heavy from his lips. If a small lie to her then would protect her from being tinged with his darkness, then it was worth its weight in gold. No matter how bitter it tasted.

But damn her. She refused to back down, falling back to nurse the wounds he'd purposefully inflicted with his words. Instead she fought back, surprising him like little else did anymore, calling him out on the fact that she'd been the one to save him, not the other way around.

Women in his (admittedly out-of-date) experience did not have claws, They were more prey than predator, defenseless and needing to be saved. Little girls did not save policemen from the evils of the world, it was ass backwards.

He'd tried to compartmentalize her away neatly into a little box in his mind. It did not work as well as he'd hoped. So he attempted to scare her with horror stories of the Pa-Pay. But, once again, she refused to yield.

He sighed heavily, this was not going as he'd planned. Damn it. 


	3. Trust No One

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

He'd arrived back at camp with an armful of firewood just in time to see Furball grab a hold of the girl. Immediately he dropped the fallen branches he had spent so much time collecting, his firearm trained on the creature in an instant. She was not going to be harmed on his watch.

She waved him off, once again placing trust in the basic goodness of someone she'd just met. And the fur ball responded by gentling and attempting to comfort her about her missing parents. Two people he'd momentarily forgotten.

Hearing Furball speak about her parents missing her reminded him sharply of his own child. And he was almost lost in the pain of his absence, but for D- the girl's introduction. She'd swallowed her own pain for the moment, intent on continuing on, knowing it would accomplish nothing to wallow in self-pity.

So while Zipperhead mumbled over the accuracy of Furball's name, he swallowed hard. Pushing aside the gaping torrent of pain over his son, it would have to be dealt with later. There were more pressing matters at hand, the least of which being the escaped viewer who had joined their group. So he backed off, and set to building up the fire.

He warned her about blind trust, or rather trust of any kind. Despite the fact that deep down he wanted her to be able to trust him. But as long as he could he would make sure she wasn't hurt. Especially by him.

The next breath found him on the ground, grabbing his leg where he'd been bitten. Furball - Ray, moved to heal him, ignoring the beginnings of argument he'd tried to dredge up. But the bite hurt that damn bad, that he'd allowed the newest member of the group to lay hands on his upper thigh in an attempt to make it better. The embarrassment was not lost on him.

Then Furball was spouting things he no longer truly believed about himself. Brave? Good? Maybe once, and when he thought about it, it made him rather sad.

His musings were cut short by the girl's incredulous and somewhat confused expression on hearing that he was once a Tin Man. They way she spoke he got the distinct feeling she wasn't too fond of the policemen where she'd come from.

He looked down at his leg, and then over at Furball. The bite was gone, only two blood-stained holes in his pants giving any evidence that it had been there at all. Too bad Furball couldn't have fixed that too, they were his only pair left.

Damn it, they were drafty.


	4. LongCoats

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

It was just after the girl had suggested a rest when the first hint that she wasn't as alien as she seemed came to light. One minute she'd been flashing him a pitiful expression that gave him an odd feeling in his chest, the next she spoke of the Old Road. Now, how would someone from the Other Side know of the Old Road?

She gave him a confused wide-eyed expression when he'd questioned her, denying any chance she'd been on that old brick road before. And then she took off running past him, as if drawn onwards.

He'd sighed, shook his head in disbelief and followed.

After that surprising revelation, the only he'd thought, that her parents were in fact from the O.Z., they found themselves in a town of androids who weren't exactly the most friendly of folk to those of the flesh and blood persuasion, to put it kindly. He'd just began to run forwards, shouting her name, when they were surrounded.

The instinct to move forward, to place himself between D- the girl and the robots were halted by common sense. They were armed, in greater numbers and surrounded them on all sides. One wrong move, no matter the good intentions behind it, could very well end in her getting hurt. Something he couldn't risk happening.

The robot leader's confusing statement about recognizing her speech pattern was barely being registered when two figures appeared out of a building. The girl rushed over to embrace them, recognizing them as her parents. But that didn't make any sense. DG's parents couldn't live in Mill Town unless… they were robots.

When the female robot revealed that she was not DG's real mother he could hear the sick thud of nasty surprise hit her like a punch in the gut. So when her 'parents' swept her away to speak to her in private he protested, but not as fervently as he normally would have. This revelation wasn't something he could protect her from.

So he'd hung back, stayed in that street under the paranoid and unblinking eyes of robots in various states in disrepair. Azkadelia had really done a number on the town, he could remember a time when Milltown had been a hidden jewel in the landscape of the O.Z.. The thought made him feel old to no small degree.

Movement out of the corner of his eye had him whirling towards it. He saw DG following her 'robo parents,' confusion and disorientation clear on her expressive face. She turned her eyes towards him, meeting his own with a shock of electricity. He felt one side of his mouth quirk up in what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and was gladdened to see an answering twisting of her lips. And then she stepped into a building alongside the street, pulling the door closed behind her. But not before one last lingering look in his direction, before it was cut off by the wooden door, leaving him once more acutely aware of his position in the middle of a dusty street surrounded by hostile robots.

It wasn't long before he, Zipperhead and Furball were herded into the building connected to the one DG had entered. One of their guarding machines pointed one metallic hang towards a crack in the outside wall. With one raised eyebrow he slowly turned, insolently slow, and looked through the broken wood. He was impressed when he saw that the entire length of the Brick Route that ran along the length of the town. It would be the perfect look-out position.

Mere moments later he spotted a group of Longcoats coming up the road in the distance. His eyes narrowed in anger, he had to get DG out of there before they could touch her. He'd protect her with his last breath if necessary. Zipperhead stepped on a loose board at that exact moment, creaking loudly.

Cain swore softly beneath his breath, he'd forgotten about the other two. Damn it, what was happening to him?


	5. The Mystic Man?

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

He burst through the door, in the middle of the robots and DG's conversation, warning of the Longcoats. She'd been standing, staring at her hand for some reason. With a concerned glance he didn't allow to be longer than a fraction of a second, he walked past to check out yet another crack in shoddily repaired building's walls.

The Longcoats riding past were nearly blurs, so fast and so close to the wall as they cantered past. Immediately he started running through any and all possible avenues of escape. He'd caught sight of Zero for the first time in the flesh for so many years when he heard the robot leader suggest that a 'wizard' would help DG on her search for her mother.

He'd ripped his eyes off his enemy's face, recognizing the description as belonging to the Mystic Man, the man he'd served to protect for so many years. In an instant her wide blue eyes were focused on him, hope filling her expression, and he had to resist the urge to bask under the glow of her attention. With a quick explanation he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door, only to be stopped when she begged her parents…or rather 'nurture units, to come along.

Frozen in the doorway, he watched the trio express love and then embrace. He wondered what would have happened if he could be reunited with his son after all these years, had he survived. Would it being loving, with a bear hug, or manly with exchanging curt nods? But he quickly shook off the line of thought, grabbing a hold of her once again.

Her small hand, soft and fragile within his own large, calloused one was a fierce reminder of how in need of protecting she was. Zero hadn't hesitated in hurting Adora, a girl they'd both known since childhood. What chance would DG have against him?

They met up with Furball and Zipperhead outside, and run out into the beginnings of the forest that was just outside Milltown. He'd paused for a full second, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. He could go back, kill Zero, most likely get killed in turn. But DG's hopeful face flashed in his mind. He couldn't let her down. He had to at least get her to the Mystic Man, he would be able to give her at least a measure of protection.

He followed Dg and the other two, his revenge would have to wait a little longer. Damn it.

A/N: I know this is really short, the next chap is way longer. Like I said earlier, it's really due to what scene we're on. And this one was really lite on the Cain-ness. /cries/ As for my other fics, I just finished my last final so I should have more time to break through my various writer's blocks.


	6. That Wasn't Difficult Was It?

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

Zipperhead was the first to spot Central City's outer wall and came to a sudden stop. DG and Furball hadn't been far behind, running up to him before stopping. Cain, who'd been covering their escape, stopped a good yard or two behind and slowly walked to stand behind the two misfits.

It had been over ten years since he'd seen the city, and so much had changed. A once bright and bustling metropolis, it now looked almost like ruins of an ancient place. It felt all manner of wrong, and he was hit once again by mingled sadness and anger. The sorceress was rotting the O.Z., from the inside out.

Longcoats stood clustered around a car, drawing his eye. None were Zero, unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be, just more ex-tin men who'd turned their backs on protecting the innocent and defenseless in their greed for platinum and lust for power. Each one was a reminder of the fact that not all who had followed the old ways had done out of a sense of honor and duty, but rather out of convenience.

Furball saw the Wanted poster first, to Cain's shame. He was supposed to be alert, instead he was distracted by his thoughts of Zero and the past. He'd promised himself he'd make sure DG would make it to the Mystic Man safely. He was already falling down on the job.

Ripping the poster off the board he stared at it. Irrationally the thought that it was rather a good likeness crossed his mind. Then again it made sense that the sorceress would use the O.Z.'s artists against them. She had taken several of the best as prisoners early in her reign, wanting to keep their talent for her own uses, and then killed off as many of the rest as she could. He crumpled the paper up and threw it away in the bushes.

"We're going to need some help."

The words had barely passed his lips when like a sign from the gods the truck appeared. It was blaring Demilo's annoying music he called his 'theme song' and the weasel's voice poured out of the speakers.

What were the chances? He didn't waste more than a few seconds pondering the astronomical odds of stumbling upon a former informant just when in need of assistance in getting inside Central City. With a shake of his head he walked down into the road, blocking the truck's passing.

He hit the hood with one hand, and stood inspecting the various decorations, waiting for the slime that was Demilo to drag his likely half-sober ass out to find out what was delaying his base business. Only when he heard the sleaze insult his hat did he look up, having taken his time to reveal himself to heightened the man's shock.

The look on his face was priceless, lifting Cain's spirits slightly. Unfortunately he could only enjoy it for an instant before he went back to inspecting the truck. Staring at that face for too long was liable to give him a gut ache. Demilo after all was someone only a mother could love without being influenced by some 'medication.' But his vehicle, in all its ostentatious multi-colored glory, would be the perfect camouflage for their group to get into the city.

With glee, or as close to glee as Cain ever outwardly displayed during interrogations, he grabbed the oily man and pulled him down off the truck. And, with the ease of much practice, slammed him against the decorated side of the vehicle. Momentarily he noticed the contrast between painted yellow with designs was an interesting counter to the greasy 'legitimate business man' vibe from Demilo.

He was rather rudely reminded of the fact that he was no longer an official protector, then threatened. He found it somewhat amusing. The former actually worked in his favor nowadays, no paperwork or superior officers to have to explain himself to. The latter was really quite amusing, Demilo had as much to gear from the Longcoats than he did, if not more.

So with a hand at scuzzball's throat, he slammed him once more against the truck. This time with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

With a flourish he played his trump card against the 'business man.' When force wasn't helpful, use blackmail. Demilo's twin mistresses poked their magically youthened faces out of the truck's interior, glaring at the man.

Demilo began to panic, even his lies coming out rushed and ill thought-out. So Cain called the flimsy bluff he was given, offering oh-so-helpfully to ask Zero's opinion on the whole 'I was joking when I slept with your wife' idea. In an instant Demilo grabbed his hand, replacing it back on his throat. And Cain knew he had the little slime dealer firmly by the… britches.

He'd demanded help getting them all inside the city and information on Zero's location. All the while wiping his now soiled left hand on his pants, before placing the hand on Demilo's chest to pin him firmly against the truck. When questioned about his second demand he circumvented answering, he wasn't going to explain his motives to this pompous sleaze.

Demilo refused to help. So, Cain used a little delicate force, pulling on the handy gold hoops on either side of the man's help. What did he expect by wearing those? They were such easy targets, And so Demilo agreed.

Cain released him, patting his force with enough of a slap to get his point across. When Demilo included DG in the 'mutt' category he added a little more force than was strictly necessary as he pushed him aside.

And they all climbed inside.


	7. Ain't Holding Court Where He Used To

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

After being waved through the Longcoats' line without being stopped, they rolled into the city. When they finally came to a halt they all came out of their hiding spots, Cain waiting a second longer until he was sure the coast was clear outside.

DG asked politely, but Demilo decided to be rude to her. And found himself hauled up by his coat. He was considerably politer after the implied threat of force.

As disrespectful as he was to DG, the level of rudeness in his voice when he spoke of the Mystic Man was even more unacceptable. And so, with the tiniest extra force, Cain lifted him up to smack his head into the ceiling. And then dropped him like a rock, allowing him to crack his kneecaps on the floor.

Demilo was real helpful after that.

Offering tickets to DG with a leer in his voice and a sleazy wink on his face, he suggested his mistresses find her an 'acceptable' outfit. It was entirely unrelated that Cain grabbed him and threw him to the side like so much refuse.

He tried to wave off DG as if they were passing strangers, determined as he was to get to Zero unhindered. But she challenged him, again.

"You're not a killer. You're a tin man."

The belief in him he heard in her soft voice struck a chord he thought long dead. A chord attached to a heart he'd purposefully hardened. So he became defensive, lashing out hurtfully at her. Better to hurt her then than later when she and possibly he might be more attached.

The hurt clear on her face made it nearly impossible to look her in the eye. So he'd gentled his voice and told her to take care before ducking out of the truck in search of vengeance. Standing outside for a full moment, he looked around while trying to swallow the creeping dread easing itself up his spine. And then he was off.

But despite that niggling little voice in the back of his mind, he hadn't fled. Damn it, he hadn't. 


	8. Where's Zero?

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

He thought he would have been feeling anticipation as he neared the brothel. Not for the same reason as the brothel's numerous and varied clientele. But anticipation all the same, that he was finally going to get his revenge.

Instead he felt a gnawing hollow in his stomach. Something about the situation didn't feel right. It didn't feel like he'd hoped it would, like he'd imagined for so long.

When he walked inside the 'establishment' (what the hell kind of place doesn't have a front door anyway?) he almost immediately had to hide his face as a pair of Longcoats stomped down the hallway towards him. The vapor-addled prostitute in the pink tried to get his attention, a futile move, even if he'd come to the place for that purpose. She wasn't exactly his type.

With a finger to his lips, he urged her to be quiet. Her heavily made up eyes with their dilated pupils blinked slowly. Then resting against the wall, she just watched him.

He heard the voice of Zero's favorite bedmate from the other side of the glass door. One hand gripped the doorknob, clenching his teeth in a grimace at the extremely (to his ears) loud click of the door opening.

For a moment he froze. That niggling voice at the back of his mind was now screaming at him to give up on vengeance and help DG. But he was too close. Relentlessly, he pushed the feeling back, and charged into the room without a further thought.

Instead of catching Zero with his pants down, literally, the only thing in the room was the woman clothed only in a towel. He demanded answers, all the while his eyes darted around the steam-filled room. As if his enemy was just hiding and would appear if he stared at the room long enough.

The woman helpfully explained that Zero had left early. And that he knew DG was in Central City.

Cain stared at her, feeling as if the bottom dropped suddenly out of his stomach, certain that if he looked down he would see a gaping hole in his belly. Some sort of physical manifestation of his mingled shock, guilt and horror.

He'd known leaving DG would end horribly. He'd known it! But instead, he'd left her unprotected in a dangerous city, with even more dangerous people baying for her blood. He might as well have thrown a kitten into the shifting sands of the Great Desert.

Damn it, he had to get to her before Zero did.


	9. He's notwell

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

* * *

The sight of a once proud man, so full life, now deathly pale and showing obvious signs of drug use hit Cain with all the grace of a large caliber bullet. He'd spent long years protecting the wise man, all the while being treated like the man's son. Given advice, taught important life lessons and counseled on any problems he'd had, their relationship had been more familial than of employer and employee.

The man who'd walked Adora down the aisle at their wedding now shook like a leaf in the wind. And the change was startling.

He looked over at DG as a way to avoid that line of thought. At her crumpled face and sad eyes. She'd hoped to find answers to her many questions. Instead she found a broken old man, trapped without his faculties by a magical elixir. The desire to comfort her rose up within him, but he quickly and ruthlessly shoved it away. Instead he moved past her, to address the man he'd known so long ago.

The old man's face was a mass of mingled grief, pain, confusion and shame. Cain could see the man's hands restlessly clench and unclench as the vapors began to withdraw the veil from his mind. It would be a painful and slow process for the magic to dissipate from his bloodstream, but eventually he could be that man so worth admiring once more.

He tried to comfort the other man, steeling himself against the way his eyes went right through him. As if he wasn't there. Knowing it was imperative that DG found what she was looking for, but still not wanting to cause the old man more pain than was necessary, he attempted to buy time. But the woman in the dress behind him reminded him swiftly that time was one of the many things they did not have.

He sighed heavily through clenched teeth, hating how little control he had over the whole situation. Cain got to his feet with a smooth economy of movement, allowing DG to take his place in front of the Mystic Man. And with frustration thrumming down to his bones, he went to check the hallway, to keep an eye out for more Longcoats.

The halting conversation that took place between DG and the old man made a sharp ache begin in the middle of his chest. Her beseeching tone that accompanied her questions, his stuttering, illogical bouts of laughter and inane ramblings tore through the former tin man.

The sound of a slap made him whip his head around in a flash. Only to find the old man blinking in shock and DG throwing her hands up in dismay over her action. Luckily however, the sudden blow seemed to have a visible effect on the man. After another blink, the old man's eyes caught on her left hand, on the mark there. Arthritic hands grabbed her small one in a flash. The sight of lucidity once more in the man's grey eyes eased the pang in Cain's chest somewhat. He turned back to look down the corridor, only to turn back to stare at the pair once more.

Lavender eyes? Those two words hit him like the kick of an ornery mule straight to the chest, knocking the breath right out of him. Her mother's eyes were lavender? Lavender eyes? Eyes… The thoughts chased each other around and around his mind in his shock. If he'd have been able to speak at that second he didn't doubt he'd have sounded like Zipperhead did when he misfired.

He looked over at that exact individual, only to find the same intense shock he felt plastered across the other man's face. They both knew what that meant. Who the only person in the O.Z. with lavender eyes was. Amorphous thoughts did in that instant. Hopes, that he knew were false, rose to attempt to revive them, and were quickly dashed by the reality of it all.

He went to hurry her away, trying to ignore the realization that was determined to rear its ugly head. She protested as his hand closed on her upper arm, calling him by name. A name that caught the old man's attention.

Cain was grabbed and shaken with surprising strength by the Mystic Man. Lucidity lit the once dull grey eyes into a silver color as they bored into his own blues. But he could see in his frantic movements that the vapors still clung to the man's mind. So when reminded once more of his previous calling, he spoke slowly, reminding him that times had changed all over.

Zipperhead called for his attention, giving him the excuse he wanted to free himself of the man's steely grip. Vaguely, he registered the old man mentioning the Northern Island, before he caught sight of Zero and a red haze threatened to cloud his vision. It was easier this time to ignore the intense hatred and urge to waltz over to him and plant a fist in the man's smug face, knowing he had to keep his head. At least for a few moments more.

He ran to the window, sliding it open. Breathing a silent sigh of relief when it opened effortlessly and revealed a ladder down into an empty alleyway. Ordering Zipperhead and Furball to head out, he hurried back to get DG and order he to follow the other two.

With Zero so near he knew he could do some damage, if not kill him and several of his men. He'd be able to give DG and the other two valuable time to get away, and fulfill his revenge. But the old man stopped him, forcing him to face who DG really was. Of how important to the future of the O.Z. she was.

The Mystic Man wrangled an oath out of him to stay with her. The supposed wizard knew that he'd protect her with his life, and by demanding Cain's word that he was giving her the best chance she had to succeed. At a mission she'd yet to discover.

He watched with a grimace as the older man flashed a tight but toothy grin, clapped him on the shoulder and opened the door to confront the Longcoats. The message was clear, do your part and I'll do mine. Gladly.

Cain closed his eyes and sighed, still trying to reconcile the startling new information with what he'd thought he'd already known. Damn it all. He'd hoped… with a grimace he climbed out the window to follow DG.

Hope was, after all, a fickle thing.


	10. Wake Up Sunshine

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

* * *

When Cain suggested that they track down Demilo, to 'borrow' his truck, the other three didn't argue. Zipperhead and Furball just nodded, willing to let him lead. DG meanwhile had her nose scrunched up like she'd just smelled something rotten. It was a rather suitable expression for dealing with the disgusting slob of a man. Cain fancied that he'd had more baths in the last eight annuals.

At their arrival at Demilo's truck they found the sleaze fast asleep, between his two mistresses. Unfortunately for every person in attendance, the man was shirtless. And his flabby, hairy belly was hanging out, making bile rise in Cain's throat.

He mulled over different tactics to wake his sometimes informant, finally settling on his favorite and one that required him to touch him the least. So he kicked the man's too-large boots, several times. Doing his best to resist the urge to smile, he delivered another kick when the first few didn't wake the other man.

The mistresses woke first, slapping their hands on the man's bare stomach. Cain spared a second to feel sorry for them, and to wonder at whether or not Demilo knew that the twins hadn't always been…exactly female. He doubted it, but then again…

It only took a few moments after Demilo awoke, to bodily throw the other man out of the truck. The twins glared at the ex-Tin Man before grabbing an armful each of clothing, including thankfully a shirt and jacket for Demilo to put on, and slinked out to pick him off the street.

Cain had just slung himself up into the cab, and began trying to figure out how to run the truck when Demilo fully recovered what little wits he had and began whining about Cain 'commandeering' the vehicle. Personally he though it made the dark-haired man sound like a spoiled little kid whining about having to share his favorite toy, but that was just him. And Demilo remembering he was married with children, only then, was laughable.

DG slid into the cab next to him, dressed back in her own clothing and out of that … distracting dress she'd worn before. He'd planned, of course, to haul her out of the back if necessary. He needed to keep a close eye on her, for her own sake. And so he was gratified she'd saved them all a step and just sat beside him without a word.

Finally, he gave up trying to figure out the mechanical contraption that Demilo called his vehicle. Either the design of trucks had changed in the last eight years to an unrecognizable degree, or the cheap bastard had jury-rigged it himself out of glue and toothpicks. Cain hadn't really expected the response to his murmured question to come from Demilo. Especially since he'd asked DG of all people about Other Side technology. And wasn't surprised when the needed information was easily volunteered.

DG followed Demilo's instructions easily, finding the necessary lever and button much faster than Cain reluctantly admitted he could have. She seemed to have some innate understanding that he himself lacked. And he couldn't help looking over at her, several times.

The look she gave him made him do the near incomprehensible, thank Demilo. The shock of those words coming from him must've jolted Demilo out of his stupor, and he restarted his dreary squawking.

They pulled away, Demilo still half-heartedly yelling after them. Cain smirked in amusement at the other man's distress, shrugging when DG sent him a reproachful look. Besides, the tips of her own lips kept quirking up seemingly against her will. She was cute, and damn it. He shouldn't be noticing that.

**_Sorry for the huge delay, RL and the family sucked the life out of me. But the next chapter is written, just needs to be typed up. So most likely tomorrow night._**


	11. What Was That?

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

* * *

It was a little known fact, but Wyatt Cain hated the cold. Hated it nearly as much as he did Zero, or the Sorceress. And he grumbled silently about the fact that the journey into DG's past had led them into such a frozen wasteland.

Mostly he used his thoughts of the evils of cold to push away the thoughts of DG's true identity. He could live in denial, if only for a little while longer. He liked it there, it was warm.

The truck began to make odd squeaky, scratchy metallic noises then. Sounds no proper vehicle should make. On instinct he asked DG about the noise, she seemed far more comfortable with mechanical contraptions than he ever would be. Even pieces of junk such as this one, made of glue and toothpicks.

Unfortunately, she was as ignorant as he in this instance. He called over his shoulder to check on Zipperhead and Furball. He wasn't sure why he did it, he'd only sworn to protect DG. By all accounts the other two shouldn't even matter to him. So why did he check on their welfare?

Ignoring the nagging question, he ordered DG to stay inside the cab, and climbed out to assess the problem. He knew she'd follow his command, at least this once, but most likely only because she wouldn't want to brave the biting cold if she didn't have to.

His hat nearly flew off his head the instant he stepped out of the warm (by comparison) truck. He'd had to clamp a hand on the worn leather brim to shove it tighter on. And then he'd half walked, half clung to the truck, as he moved around the front of the vehicle. Of course at one point his foot went directly into the seemingly only slush puddle on the entire mountain, so now his sock was squishing inside his truck. Wasn't that just fantastic?

Glue and toothpicks! When he got back to Central City he was going to wring Demilo's scrawny neck and then send him to DG for lessons in proper vehicle upkeep. Wait, scratch that, there was no way in this frozen hell he was allowing the sleaze in the same room as her. Cain made a noise that was a mixture of a groan, a grunt and a roar, in anger and annoyance. And not just because he'd had to put his hands straight into the snow, and didn't have gloves. There was no way to fix a broken axle, without parts, tools or a jacking mechanism. Let alone on an icy mountain road in the middle of a blizzard.

He grabbed the icy pin that held the sides of the truck closed, and pulled. Doing his best to ignore the icy bite of frozen metal on his bare palm. Zipperhead and Furball stuck their heads out of their blanket cocoons, the former clueless and the latter all too knowing.

With a sarcastic growl of a statement he urged them to get a move on, they'd have to continue their trek on foot. And with a teeth baring grimace, he stomped up to the cab. He swiftly had DG out, and wrapped in a blanket he'd pulled from the nest in back of the truck. If his arms lingered around her a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary, neither he nor DG mentioned it. Nor did they mention the frisson of awareness that passed between them in the brief instant their eyes had met before he'd looked away.

Damn it, the cold wind buffeting them as they began their march was freezing valued areas of his body.


	12. She Knew It Was Home

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.

* * *

Wyatt Cain ex-tin man and current human popsicle, was not happy. He stiffly was marching behind DG, Zipperhead and Furball in the middle of a freezing wind, being buffeted by stray snowflakes. Not enough to obscure his vision, but merely one or two passing his vision every second and at least one hitting him straight in the eye every couple of minutes. As she pointed out which direction they needed to head, he raised one fist toward his mouth to blow hot air into it.

He'd didn't bother wondering how she knew which way to go. But as she'd already proven several times that she knew more than even she thought she did, he'd decided to trust whatever instincts drove her. If the Mystic Man was correct (as he no doubt was) an extreme amount of magic had been used on and around her, to keep her safe up until this point. It would undoubtedly continue to lead her where she needed to be.

DG began spouting what sounded like the beginning of a poem or a child's story, and moved towards the massive block of ice before them. It lay at the bottom of the hill they were standing on, in the place of where he'd thought the Northern Castle had been. Zipperhead turned his questioning gaze upon him to see if he had any idea what was going on.

He didn't. And it seemed smarter and wiser to follow the one person in their company who actually did. With an unnecessary command to the other two men…er, males, he began moving rigidly forward again. For an instant he was reminded of the Original Tin Man (you could feel the capitals when he was mentioned) and how the legends had described his movements. With a snort he pushed the thought away.

Once they reached the ice mountain DG never lost whatever was driving her. She stared at the ice like it was a puzzle that needed to be solved, and that she vaguely remembered seeing it solved before. Cain and the other milled around rather aimlessly, not knowing what to do, but not wanting to stop moving with the threat of freezing loomed if they stilled too long.

And then she froze, in movement not cold, and pulled off the blanket he'd wrapped around her earlier. Spinning sharply on her heel, she shouted a word half lost on the icy wind. The other two were confused, but Cain who'd spent so much time and energy watching her and listening to her voice knew what she'd said. Despite the fact that her tone echoed oddly, as if it was more of an ingrained suggestion in her mind than her speaking for herself.

"Dig."

Obviously more comfortable in the cold than he, she swiftly moved toward him. Her small hands were pulling the axe he'd practically forgotten he was even carrying, before he could even protest. And he'd barely begun when she twisted it away from his grasp, taking the topmost layer of skin of his palm with the wooden handle.

Her eyes were glazed with a fervor that made him believe it was best to stand back and let her do what she was going to do anyway. She seemed more inside her own memories than in that current moment in time anyway, and he had the feeling that she'd just push him aside to get where she felt she needed to go.

Chanting what sounded like the rest of what she'd begun earlier, she started chopping away at the ice. Raw looked at Cain, he looked at Raw, Raw looked at Glitch, who looked back at Raw. And Cain attempted to warm his other hand, without much success.

He watched in fascination as the axe sunk into the ice deeply, deeper than it should have. And when DG yanked it back out, chunks of ice began falling away. A few more downward strokes and a large cracked opened up, revealing a set of doors hidden behind.

DG chuckled softly, lowering the axe, while Cain just stared amazed at what had been revealed. He moved forward somewhat in a daze, the cold temporarily forgotten at this newest revelation. Coming to a stop just behind her, he watched as she tried the handle.

"Is it locked?"

He thought it was rather ridiculous to lock a door hidden behind a wall of ice in the middle of a frozen tundra. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he admired the level of security. After all, you wanted to make sure only the one you wanted to could get inside.

Cain blew on his hand once more, and watched with a shiver he couldn't repress as she held up her palm to the doors' handles. For a moment he wondered if the chill up his spine had been from the cold or the sense of foreboding that seemed to be creeping up on him.

The doors opened for her after a second, welcoming them inside. With wide eyes she turned to look at him, as he leaned forward to look inside. She must've seen a similar expression on his face because she didn't say a word, just lowered her hand and stepped through the ice into the room beyond.

He followed after Raw, his right hand instinctively going to his gun. And damn it, he couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible lay ahead. 


	13. Emerald of the Eclipse

**_AN: Replaced 03/27/08. Wrote again due to an oversight, liked the new version better. Obviously, the outcome will be the same._**

The first thought Cain had when he stepped into the massive hall of the Northern Palace was that it was a good place for an ambush. The second was wondering why there were so many pillars. What good reason could the architect have had that would have necessitated so many columns? Basic laws of building would only show the need for maybe a third of the amount that were in the room.

He made sure to keep DG on his right, where he could better protect her. When she suddenly stopped, her attention caught on something, it took less than a second for him to realize it and pull to a halt himself. His gaze went immediately to her, and then slid up to rest on what had drawn her eyes.

It was a portrait of the queen. Painted nigh on twenty years before, although it was altered from the way it'd been the first time he'd seen it. Not that he could place his finger on how, exactly. He didn't look away as he stepped closer, not even when DG realized that the woman inside the frame was her mother.

Raw's own revelation to the fact surprised him, but not overly so, making him look over at the Animal. He knew that Zipperhead had reached the same conclusion over the identity of DG's mother when the Mystic Man had mentioned her 'lavender eyes.' Although he couldn't be sure if the other man still remembered that fact. The Viewers being such an isolationist group in the O.Z. probably was to blame for Raw's sketchy knowledge about the Queen.

The portrait reminded Cain of how deeply the changes were woven in the O.Z.. The beautiful raven-haired queen of the light had been replaced during a violent coup by her cold-hearted power-hungry eldest daughter. Central City had faded from a shining beacon to a decrepit and corrupt place. The Tin Men were either banished, tortured eternally or killed, long replaced by the Sorceress' Longcoats.

He'd been just starting off in his career the last time he'd seen the portrait. An optimistic and lighthearted young man, deeply in love with his new bride and ecstatic over the coming child he'd been told about the week before.

'_You knew my mother.'_

Cain couldn't help the twinge of guilt that caught him when he remembered he'd called Zipperhead a convict. And wasn't surprised when the very same turned around to remind him of the fact. He personally wouldn't have forgotten being so misjudged, so it made sense that the other man felt the same way. It just wasn't done to insult another man's honor, his father had taught him to behave better than that.

DG began another one of her lilting remembered stories, counting out the meter with her hand. He drew his eyes away from the portrait, finally, to look at her. Better keep his mind on the present, and off the past. When she suddenly turned and bolted, his eyes went against his will back up to the painting, before Raw followed. Zipperhead and he shared a glance, before (with yet another look back at the framed picture) he followed DG…the princess.

She led them up a flight of stairs, through a corridor and finally into a room, where she suddenly halted. Furball and Zipperhead followed, with Cain close on their heels. As soon as they were all inside, they fanned out. Zipperhead aimlessly wandered, Furball headed for DG and Cain began to scout the room. He looked in every direction, even up at the ceiling, where there was a colorful mural of animals painted in a lush forest scene.

When he finally was sure that there weren't any Longcoats hiding behind the curtains, or about to pop up from the dust covered bed (he would've been able to see bootprints on the dust covered floor) he immediately turned towards DG.

The way she sighed, when Furball described her mother waiting for her return, made Cain look away. Only to find Zipperhead looking back at him, the same unsure expression on his goofy face as he knew he had on his. He didn't know how to handle a woman's emotions, other than anger or lust, they always seemed so much more complicated than his own. His mouth opened and closed slightly as he tried to figure out what to say to her, but nothing came to mind. Flexing his fingers didn't help either, and he kept finding himself picking up one hand to reach out to her, before he realized what he was doing and put it back down.

He turned towards Zipperhead when he spoke, but while mildly amusing and sad at the same time, what the man did wasn't all that important. When Furball spoke next, however, it was. The Animal was extremely upset, to a degree Cain hadn't seen before. In fact, when he grabbed DG's hands and began pulling her up and out of the room, he nearly ran into the ex-tin man behind him. Cain had to step backwards to avoid the collision.

DG asked Furball to tell her what he meant by 'bad things,' but he seemed scared out of his senses. When he turned to look at Cain, who was still standing behind him, Cain immediately ordered him to tell her what she wanted to know. He was sure to temper his usually steely tone, the furry man-creature did not need harshness at the moment, just a little authority.

Furball's expression didn't change, he was still afraid, but he still did what was necessary. He headed towards an old mirror against one wall, the other three following, and began pulling at the diaphanous cloths draped over it. Once it was clear he placed one hand on the edge, and bowed with pain. After a moment the mirror's surface changed from reflecting the room as it was, to reflecting as it had been.

Cain stood riveted, his attention narrowed in on the picture glowing on the mirror's surface. It was of the Queen, and of what Cain knew must be DG as a child, lying on the beautifully carved bed that was in the room. The Queen's voice floated almost eerily from the mirror, singing a song he'd heard DG hum absent-mindedly more than once during their travels.

The image of the Queen he'd always held in his mind was of a dignified and aloof woman, everything royalty was in the stories his mother had told him as a child. But here, she was just a mother, singing to her child. The contrast was a startling one, he hadn't exactly thought she was a cyborg, but he hadn't really thought about what the royals were really like. They just…were.

Zipperhead remembered then that the child was indeed DG, and that he'd known her then too. She however seemed more fixated on the kiss the image of her mother had given her as a child. Her fingers trailed over her cheek, as if trying to feel the soft touch from over a decade before. He wasn't sure if it was better to have forgotten everything rather than remember the horrors as well as the joys.

After the Queen left, it wasn't more than a moment before **she** walked in. A cold young girl, spouting lines from a long ago supposed prophesy. He didn't place her really until Zipperhead whispered her name, making Cain's eyes dart between the other man's face and the images playing out on the mirror's surface. He could do no more than swallow and blink when DG realized who exactly the Sorceress really was. Her elder sister.

The girl, Azkadellia, continued slinking towards the bed her sister lay sleeping on, still repeating the prophesy. When she finally reached the edge of the bed, she stretched out her hands over her sister, and unleashed a mass of darkness towards the smaller child. The younger DG gasped away, choking from the magic wrapping itself around her throat. After a minute she stilled, and her older sister put down her hands, a self-satisfied smile on her icily blank face.

__

"She tried to kill me!"

He was quick to correct her, it was important that she realized the truth. Now was not a time to coddle her, allow her to think that she escaped unscathed, or that her sister didn't cold-heartedly suffocate her as a child. She needed to know how far the Witch was willing to go. There would be no mercy, no quarter, just death.

Her denial had just slipped off her tongue with a shake of her head, when the Queen returned to the room. And with a suspicious glance at her departing older daughter, moved towards the bed, at first slowly and then at a dead run. A sound, seemingly torn from her throat without her will, escaped the Queen as she threw herself beside her child. Crying and apologizing for not being able to protect her.

The sound of her words settled around his heart like a vise, momentarily stopping his breath. She hadn't been the only one unable to save her child from the Sorceress, just the first.

Her cries stopped suddenly, as if she made a decision and knew it had to be carried out swiftly. Mouth open, snow white tendrils of pure magic weaved themselves from somewhere deep inside, flowing into the mouth of her daughter. It was like watching the Sorceress work in reverse. Instead of pulling the life out of another and into herself, the Queen was pulling her life out and pushing it into her child. Silver threaded its way into the dark strands of her hair as she acted, just before she collapsed, gasping from exertion.

The Emerald of the Eclipse? Damn it, where had he heard of that before?


	14. Still can't fight your own battles

**_AN: Okay, I am so sorry this took so long. My muse went into Witness Protection for awhile (duh to exposure to slashers), but now has retaken her identity. And then I thought I was writing a really long chapter, but in reality wrote this chapter AND rewrote the last chapter. Accidentally, :shrugs: anyway...forgive me? :wibble: If forgiven, please don't forget to review. It keeps my muse out of Federal Court's witness pool._**

So entranced in the golden glow of the mirror's image of the past was Cain, that he didn't realize the Sorceress was there until he heard her speak. He should not have let his guard down! When nameless Longcoat strode forward with a sneer on his face to relieve him of his weapon, Cain opened his coat to allow the man clear access to his gun. He wasn't going to put up with being touched by one of the Witch's foul lackeys.

And Zero. The minute that arrogant bastard stepped into the room with that abominable smirk on his face, Cain's eyes were on him. Thinking that possibly, if he glared hard enough, his enemy would burst into flame then and there. Sadly, it didn't happen. Instead he was left with the disgusting taste of disappointment and failure in his mouth, coating his tongue and choking him. Zero, the smug git, gladly took the weapon from his subordinate. And held it up triumphantly, as if he'd just won something.

Azkadellia stepped forward when DG spoke to her, responding in the sickly sweet voice that usually preceded some horrific death or devastation. Zipperhead tried to defend the younger Gale, but Cain was still fixated on Zero. And of how he'd failed yet another time to protect someone he'd grown to care about from the Longcoat's grasping hands.

He'd been a friend once, had learned and trained at Cain's side. Their families had known each other when they were growing up, with Adora's. The three of them had done everything together, until just Cain's graduation from the Academy, and Zero's from military training. The sudden and lasting romance between Cain and Adora created a rift between the trio, one that was never repaired. One that boiled with resentment and anger until it came to a head when the Princess deposed her mother in a violent coup.

The Sorceress's humorless bubble of laughter brought Cain screeching back to the present, his hand reaching for the gun that was no longer there as she stepped towards her sister. The elder sister demanded the location of the Emerald, the piece of information only DG herself knew, now that the Queen had been missing for almost a decade.

DG looked only slightly confused, placing her hands on her hips as she faced down her sister. Faced down the monster she'd become. Cain looked over at her for a moment as she shook her head. She didn't know where it was.

Was it all a trick? A way for the Queen to throw off her eldest daughter, to confuse and irritate her? But he couldn't figure out any purpose that could possibly serve the royal line, to place the daughter of light in danger without reason, it would be madness. And while the House of Gale was known for many things, but insanity was not one of them. Not to this extent.

Ozma's stars. There was nothing Cain would've liked better to do then knock that smarmy full-of-himself expression off of Zero's ugly mug. He was watching the Witch with an almost lustful look in his eye, which wouldn't really surprise the former tin man, Zero always did have a thing for power. So the idea of power, mixed with sick sadism and low-cut gowns, must really turn the freak on.

Azkadellia clapped her hands together, eyes on DG, and slowly drew them apart, conjuring a lantern of sorts. From within it the Queen's voice called out for her younger daughter, her image shining from behind the glass panes of the device. With a flourish the Sorceress tossed the lantern to her sister, a smug grin tipping the edges of her lips. Cain kept his eyes on the illegitimate monarch, unable to watch DG's face as she took in the little piece of mental torture.

From the very beginning of her campaign to overthrow her mother, the rightful Queen, the Enchantress had delighted in using both mental and physical torture upon her opponents. And when displeased with her own troops, had been quick to make an example of the leader. In the end, both enemies and allies became yet more broken toys she'd tired of playing with.

It was no secret that she'd captured the Queen eight years before, but even Cain was surprised that she had kept her alive all those years. But then again, she'd never been one for giving up anything she could use later.

Quick thinking as ever, DG smashed the device she held to the floor. Causing a burst of light, followed by an explosion of the aftereffects of dark magic, a tainted cloud that immediately swarmed towards the dark magic user in the room. Also knocking back her Longcoat confederates, who all cried out in dismay.

DG, Zipperhead and Furball all fled the room immediately, taking advantage of the distraction. But Cain did not move. Instead he waited for the cloud to dissipate, doing a quick look around him for possible weapons, and finding none, decided to fight hand to hand. Tossing his hat at them, for no other reason than to make sure his vision was unobscured, he steeled himself for the coming skirmish.

He planted one boot straight into the gut of the first who came at him, knocking him back. Knocking aside the second man's punch, and delivering one of his own to knock him backwards. Finally Zero attacked, having waited out the first two, as usual. He did like his prey properly softened up before he himself did anything about it. Cain felt the thrill go through him at the chance to finally do damage to the man who'd single-handedly shredded his life.

Struggling for the gun, the pair both tried to get the weapon, before Cain gave up on the idea and kneed the other man in the rib cage. Causing the Witch's General to drop Cain's gun to the tile floor. Reaching for the pistol, Cain's side was exposed, which Zero immediately took advantage of with a rib cracking kick to his old friend's side. Which was succeeded with another kick, this time to the gut. A painful backhand was delivered to Cain's jaw with one armored fist made him see stars for a moment, and spun him straight to his hands and knees on the ground.

Cain wiped blood from his mouth with the back of one hand as Zero backed off slightly, most likely to get a better view of the other man's pain. And of course to smooth his too long blonde hair back into place, Zero always was rather narcissistic about his appearance. Getting to his feet, Cain delivered a smartass comment to aggravate his opponent, needing the time to try to shake the daze that was coming and going from the blow to the jaw.'Now I know why they call you Zero. Still can't fight your own battles.'

Zero waved off his two lackeys, who were only know getting to their feet. Without realizing it, he was doing exactly what Cain wanted, coming for him all on his own. The former tin man knew that he couldn't handle all three at once on a good day, let alone when he hadn't had a full meal or night's sleep since he'd escaped his tin suit. His stance was less than steady as he held up his fists to fight the other man, his head was still swimming from that blow. 'Lucky shot,' he thought mulishly.

Cain was the first to attack, three heavy blows that, if they had landed, would have done serious damage to his adversary. But all three were blocked the general's armored arm, just causing damage to Cain's fists. Zero threw a right hook that was particularly nasty, clipping his jaw nicely. But the former tin man did not fall, instead he threw a haymaker that knocked Zero on his ass with a nice twirl.

Cain couldn't enjoy the image however, because immediately one of the Longcoats who'd been standing back leapt on him. Throwing an arm around his neck and yanking him backwards with bruising force. Less than a moment later the second Longcoat planted a fist in Cain's face, making blood flood his mouth as his cheek smashed against his teeth. Another hit to the kidneys and he was feeling the pain. Then a double fisted attack to the right side of his face, which made him feel as all his teeth rattled in his skull. The man just kept on delivering blow after blow to Cain's body and face as his buddy held him in a standing position.

Gathering his strength, Cain used the Longcoat's hold on him to lift up his legs and kick the man, who'd rained relentless blows upon him, straight in the gut and knocking him backwards. He slammed an elbow backwards into the fleshy gut of the man holding him, following it with another elbow hit, this time to the man's face. When the first came at him again, Cain made sure he got his share of the pain he was delivering.

Zero finally reappeared, punching an open hand straight to Cain's sternum and knocking the wind out of him. Mercilessly, he grabbed his old friend's head and kneed him straight in the nose and mouth. Bloody, bruised and head swimming in pain and dizziness, Cain could no longer stand up straight. But Zero tipped up his chin with one hand, forcing him to look up at his smiling display. Before dropping the final bashing blow onto his upturned face.

Cain dropped to the floor in a the space of a hummingbird's heartbeat. And lay there, muddled and vision spinning, eyes glazed. He was close to unconsciousness, he could feel it. Still he struggled to get back on his feet, focusing on Zero's hateful voice as a way of keeping himself awake, if only for a few minutes more.

'No wife or child, crying for years to free you from it.'Blood dripping from his mouth, eyes, nose, as well as saliva and sweat, Cain was only fixated on what his enemy had said. His family was alive. All these annuals he'd thought them lost, but they were out there, somewhere. Alive.

Fuelled by the fledgling hope building in his chest, he finally got back on his feet and faced Zero. Just in time to be shot with his own gun. Stumbling backwards from the force of the blast, he fell into the ice-covered window pane, and through it. He screamed as he fell downwards towards the surface of the frozen lake, not only from the physical pain in his chest. But also from the heart wrenching pain of the fates playing a sadistic trick on him.

Damn it…


	15. Icy Grips Of The Lake

-1The time between falling toward the icy lake and finding his way onto the shore would always be a mystery to Cain later in his life. It was not supposed to be possible, not even in the O.Z., to fall that distance and survive. Even without breaking through an iced over lake. Or even without being shot and knocked out of a window, especially after being beaten by three men (who cheat) and then shot out a window, falling dozens of stories and breaking through an icy lake to land in freezing cold water.

He remembered coming up for air at the edge of the lake, his hands grabbing at the snow covered rocks for purchase. Chest pounding with pain where he had been shot, he pulled himself out of the water, crawling on hands and knees until he was a few feet from shore.

Snowflakes caught on his eyelashes and in his hair, before darkness overtook him.

Zero taunted him in his dreams, his mind replaying the scene where he had been shot. His family was alive. Years he had said, years! Annuals lost, he had been so sure Zero had killed them both. After he had…Adora…gods…he had dragged both Adora and Jeb behind the house and two gunshots had rent the air.

The sound of someone approaching, of someone opening a door nearby (where was he?) broke through the pull of unconsciousness. He had his gun cocked pointed at the possible threat before he even opened his eyes. Or even came fully awake.

It was hard to breathe through the pain in his chest, entire left side felt like it had been stomped on and then hurriedly popped back into a normal shape. Oddly it did not feel like a gunshot wound, but he knew for a fact that Zero had shot him with his own gun. All the same, it still hurt. As did his back where he had hit the ice, his entire body was wrapped in the sensation of being bruised, but somehow not nearly as badly as it should have been. What in Ozma's formerly green O.Z. was going on?

The gun was being pushed away, and for a reason Cain did not know, he knew who it was. But when had he gotten his gun back? It felt like his gun; same weight, texture beneath his fingertips, shape in his hand. Zero had shot him with it, how was it in his hand again as if it had never left at all?

Zipperhead was talking, comparing him to a baby. Well, thanks. Cain opened his eyes, fighting the heavy feeling of his eyelids for a brief moment before closing them again. He had thought right before he hit the ice that the Witch had finally killed them all. Never before had he been so relieved to find that he had been wrong. Both about their deaths, and that Zipperhead was utterly useless.

Jeb's horse? The small wooden animal now had a bullet lodged in its heart, while it had been carefully tucked in a pocket over his own. The figure had been new when he had fled Central City with his family, when he had tucked away his gun and badge. His son had insisted the small token be hidden away as well, Cain had not really understood his boy's logic, but had indulged the kid and then picked him up to tickle his sides until he screeched like a wounded Papay and squirmed to get away.

Curling his fist around the little horse, he held it to his chest, back over his heart where it belonged. When Zipperhead answered his question about DG, it hurt far more than even the impact of the bullet had. His jaw clenched as his eyes shut against the images the Sorceress's name had conjured, of what she could be doing to her sister. Family meant nothing to her, as evidenced by her mother being overthrown and then disappearing into the dungeons. DG in her hands was a concept that just burned with pain to fathom.

Asking about Furball was more of a desire for information than anything else, as he was quick to distance himself from any small attachment to the Viewer. He was already far too attached to the girl, and the Zipperhead saved his life so now he was indebted to the man. It was easier to offer the idea that Furball had fled than to think of yet another person capture by the Sorceress, even if it made him come off as an unfeeling bastard. No, especially if it made Cain come off as an unfeeling bastard.

Maybe then they would see that it made more sense not to get attached to him, and it would be easier on them all.

Still…he owed Glitch his life. Thankfully he passed out from a mixture of exhaustion and pain from the soreness throughout his body, so that he did not have to hear the zippered man no doubt yammer on for several hours.

Damn, unconsciousness never sounded so good.


End file.
